Joel called last night to give us the news: We're having a new little boy as our next great-grand! They were all there for the sonogram, including Joely, who wanted a brother. Jen's feeling good, Joel starts the new job on Monday, and all is well. I always remember the line in "Gone With The Wind" (love that book, I don't care if it is schlocky, sentimental, and written for the popular market) when Melly says, "The best days are when babies are born." And that's the truth--it's death that stinks, not life.
Jen got a "baby name" book for Christmas and I told Joel I'd send the Social Security site that lists the ten most popular, where individual names are on the frequency of use, and so on. Called Alison to congratulate her, too--and the family grows.
Besides the dermatological items I listed yesterday, Pat has yet another: a growth on his upper left arm that the doctor says is probably also a squamous cell and will have to be removed. He took a biopsy and we'll hear. Today we go to the endocrinologist in Ventnor.
I had been sleeping well lately--until this morning. Woke up at 3:10 am and just couldn't go back. Made the mistake of getting up to play "Wordslinger" on the computer, went back about 5:00 (when I usually get up) and dozed restlessly on and off until I got up for good at the ungodly late hour of 7:15.
P.S. After reading Pat Mc H. R.'s blog and hearing she served spaghetti for dinner, I decided to do the same yesterday. Put meatballs and sauce in the crockpot (it smelled oh, so delicious) and boiled up a generous amount of spaghetti. When I went to pour it in the colander in the sink, it went sideways and more than half went down the drain! I wasn't worried about clogs, as we have a disposal, but that left only enough for Pat and I didn't feel like waiting while more cooked, so I had a meatball sandwich. Actually, that was just as good.